it isn't rocket science
by caniex
Summary: early mornings, high school robotics competitions, and lots of hormones might actually work in ed's favor. ed/winry high school au.


**pairing:** ed/winry  
**themes:** au (which isn't really a theme but), humor, fluff, the usual really  
**a/n:** oh my goD IT HAS BEEN _FOREVER_ SINCE I WROTE ANYTHING (!) oh my god welp hope i'm not too rusty and hope this doesn't colossally suck ass )':  
**a/n2:** based upon this which has been floating around in my head for weeks and so ta-da!  
**a/n3:** it feels so incredibly good to write again yay i hope this isn't awful bc my first au didn't do too hot but practice makes perfect yo**  
**

**enjoy!~**

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Ed leans against the silver sedan, a pensive expression engraved onto his face as he studies the anxious blonde furiously loading god-knows-what into the trunk. She's mumbling something incoherent, not that he'd really be able to comprehend it anyway. Right now, she's in 'tech-mode', as he dubbed it, which essentially means she's speaking from a robotics index; proximity sensor, axises, kinematics and a lot shitload of stuff he won't even pretend to understand.

He watches her tote crates full of spare wires and back-up bolts and literal scrap metal from her garage and he's wondering how on earth she's carrying this shit like it's a feather pillow. He doesn't even want to know how much that crap weighs, but he knows it isn't light considering the noticeable 'plunk!' the car makes and the way it shifts under his back and he knows it isn't from Winry carelessly plopping the crates into the trunk; she's treating this equipment like it's a delicate newborn child.

His eyes graze up her arms and take note of the considerable muscle accompanying them. It's pretty impressive, not that he expects anything else from her. She's been giving 100% to Robotics Club since her membership began freshman year, and now as a senior (and proud president, she might add), she's practically doubled that effort. And it's paid off; here they are, packing for the three-hour drive to the State Competition, which the team has won the past two years running.

He makes fun of her almost unrelentingly for her extreme devotion to her passion; never letting up with the 'gearhead' comments and teasing her at every opportunity, but he (and Al, too, when he isn't swamped with Student Council meetings and Model UN or Debate Competitions or whatever else he's dived headlong into) has dutifully attended every single Robotics competition and he isn't even on the team. He makes a big stink about and complains about the long Saturdays and is especially grumpy during the early morning but he goes every single time.

He usually stands uselessly on the sidelines, helping in whatever way he can even if it isn't very often that his assistance is requested, but he's an avid supporter of the team, namely Winry. He cheers his lungs off for them, but they all know it's for her, especially Al, who elbows his brother playfully in the ribs when Ed yells a little too loud or searches for Winry in the crowd a little too openly.

It's completely, hopelessly obvious that he likes her, and he knows it. But he's stuck in friend-purgatory. Even if he acknowledges the painfully evident feelings, he doesn't have the slightest clue how to process them on a level other than "I think I love her" or god forbid convey them in a way other than childish bickering, lasting glances, and awkward smiles because that's how they've always done it.

One time Al commented, "So that means you've always loved her, then?" With a necessary eyebrow waggle and smirk that resulted in a stuttering Ed who couldn't even muster a decent comeback.

He's hopelessly in love, and he's been itching to just tell her already but it's "never the right time, jeez!" and so the purgatory continues.

Another jerk of the automobile refocuses his attention on the present and his eyes lock on Winry's spine as she paces back to her garage. His eyes dip lower until they're practically glued to her ass before she whirls around again with another crate in her arms, practically catching him in the act as his eyes flash back to hers, which meet his uncertainty.

_Shit shit shit_, he brilliantly thinks as his throat closes up and his face reddens. She stacks the equipment in the trunk, rummaging around for what he assumes to be a wrench that will soon become even better acquainted with his skull. Instead, she closes the trunk gingerly and turns back to him excitedly.

"Ready?" She asks, brimming with energy. It's six in the morning and she's already had three cups of coffee - black - and the excitement is practically pouring out of her but he recognizes the anxious glance she throws him.

He offers her a half-hearted smirk and motions toward the passenger seat. "Sure, let's go meet up at the be-all-end-all gearhead convention," he announces and the sarcasm is evident and intended and she knows but she just rolls her eyes and settles into the car.

The drive is long to the state capital and it's quiet for the most part; save from the occasional fussing over the radio and offhanded comment. Winry reviews blueprints and forms for what he knows is the millionth time and he focuses on the road.

It's about a half an hour until the GPS tells them they'll arrive soon and like clockwork, Winry's leg begins to bounce and hers finger drum against the armrest and he knows her nerves are rising.

"Nervous?" He asks, although he already knows the answer.

She lets out a chuckle. "You don't even know the half of it."

"Don't be stupid, Win. You and your team, you guys are incredible. You're practically rocket scientists and you've been working yourself to death. You'll kick ass today, and I know it. Don't sweat it," he says, attempting not to sound completely awkward (or sappy!). He's never been the best at giving compliments, but he never gives them where they aren't deserved. And it's especially easy right now, for some reason.

He keeps his head faced forward but he peripherally sees her shift so she faces him head-on. "Seriously? You think so?"

He frowns and sneaks a glance at her, trying not to stutter when he meets her sapphire eyes. "Duh, Win. I've got total confidence in you. I don't call you 'gearhead' for nothing, ya know," he says, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

He feels her smile and her gaze lingers on his face for a few more seconds, and he worries if she doesn't look away soon she'll see him blush, but she sinks back into her seat, muttering a quiet, "Thank you, Ed," before switching gears and fiddling with the radio again.

He tries to keep a smirk off his face for the rest of the trip.

He fails.

In the blink of an eye, they're cruising through the packed parking lot of the convention center. Winry tells him the rest of the team will meet them at the curb to help unload the truck and complete registration.

The amount of traffic in the lot is almost unbelievable, but they make it to the front curbside eventually where the "band of geeks" promptly helps unload the equipment while Winry directs them from the sidewalk. Ed just stays in the driver's seat, figuring he'll only get in the way.

He's wondering to himself whether or not he should go get Winry flowers when they win, or if that's way too corny, when Winry taps on the window. He jumps and shoots her a look when she laughs. Ed rolls down the window for her grumpily as her laughter quiets.

She smiles at him and points towards the doors leading inside, "I've gotta go head in and finish registration, so you can just go park somewhere. We're all done in the back."

He nods and she pauses, studying him. She can see the tiredness is getting to him.

"I'll wait for you inside, to show you where we're set up," she offers, poking him teasingly.

He scoffs, "I think I can figure it out just fine, thanks. It may be GearheadCon but I'll manage. 'Sides, you've got bigger things to worry about, right?"

She pauses but nods uncertainly this time and he turns to look at her.

"In case I don't get the chance to talk to you until after, good luck, 'kay? I mean, you're gonna kill them and knock 'em blind anyway - Al even said so! - but I know you're freaking the fuck out so, good luck, Win," he says, offering her a smile. She returns it wholeheartedly and replies a gracious 'thank you' as she moves her elbows off the car and backs up onto the sidewalk.

He releases the parking brake and moves his hand to the gear shift before she stops him. "Wait!" She demands and suddenly she's back in his face and her fingers are curling around his neck and before he can evaluate the situation she presses her lips onto his fully and gently and almost open-mouthed.

All he can register is the pounding of his heart and how soft her lips are and the incredible way Winry tastes like she smells; like vanilla but without the grease. But it's over as soon as it started and a car horn breaks them apart. She chuckles against his cheek, most likely at his bewildered and stiff demeanor.

She flashes him a heart-stopping grin and looks him square in the eye.

"A good luck kiss, right?"

He nods, dazed, and somehow manages to pull her in again, drinking in her intoxicating kisses before the damn car horn blares again and splits them apart. He growls to himself and Winry laughs again, untangling her arms from his neck and backing up onto the sidewalk. "Later," she promises as she turns back towards the convention center and races inside.

He watches her go all the way inside and lets two more car horns sound before it sinks into his skull that he just kissed Winry Rockbell.

He, Edward Elric, just kissed Winry Rockbell.

And before he knows it, he's racing to buy flowers.


End file.
